


click our heels together, to keep from falling apart

by perrysian



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dance Dance Revolution - Freeform, Depression, Friendship, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrysian/pseuds/perrysian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire in recovery, holds a DDR party to keep his demons at bay. Everyone is suitably distracted by his... moves. And Enjolras has none.</p>
            </blockquote>





	click our heels together, to keep from falling apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryssabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryssabeth/gifts).



> Unbeta'd. For Ryssa~~~

There’ve been bad days in the past, during the early weeks of Grantaire’s recovery; days where thirst and despair battered at him until he was left lying on the kitchen floor in pieces, hopeless to move until Cosette came to check on him again; days he wanted to hurt everyone around him; days where he wanted it to just be over.

But then he started having okay days, and then good days, and then great days. Days where everything was bright again; days where Cosette’s laugh left him warm, instead of hollow; days where debates with Enjolras were left as debates, and didn’t devolve into screaming matches or Grantaire down a side street in a gutter.

Today, however, was a bad day. His tongue itched for the burn of liquor and his wrists ached for restraint, and Montparnasse can smell weakness a kilometer off. The last thing Grantaire wants is to fall back into that cycle of blitz out nights and days hating himself for letting ‘Parnasse do the things he needed him to do.

So he calls Cosette. He calls Marius, and Èponine, and Courfeyrac.

Tonight is Dance Dance Revolution night.

Somehow, this sparks Enjolras’ interest, though Grantaire thinks it’s the word revolution rather than the sober socializing.

*

Little known fact: Enjolras is actually capable of socializing outside of a political discussion or protest rally situations. In fact, he actually likes it.

Surprise.

The idea of a ‘boogey-wiggle-party’ –according to Cosette, Enjolras shudders even reading the word ‘boogey’- is not his first choice of entertainment, but he’ll at least enjoy watching Combeferre’s awkward stilted shuffle dancing and Courfeyrac making an absolute ass of himself.

Not to mention it’s at Grantaire’s flat, so no alcohol, which is Enjolras’ preference; and Grantaire will be there, which makes it even better. Grantaire still came to the meetings, actually spoke up more than before, though he was still a cynic and his arguments only got sharper and became bulletproof the longer they debated, Grantaire didn’t spend a lot of leisure time with the rest of them. Rather, he didn’t spend a lot of downtime with Enjolras, which had Enjolras wondering what aspect of his personality made it necessary for alcohol to lubricate interaction.

Not that lubrication was a problem. Or it was. Enjolras set down his phone, and determinedly stopped think about lubrication.

Really.

The point was he was going to spend time with Grantaire. A sober Grantaire. A sober Grantaire who would probably dance and show off that ridiculous flexibility. A sober, flexing Grantaire who’d be sweaty and laughing and flushed-

Enjolras decided a cold shower was in order before the party.

The… boogey-wiggle party, damn Cosette.

*

Marius admitted he wasn’t the most observant person, but he’d have to be dead not to notice the weird behavior between Enjolras and Grantaire.

Plus Joly mentioned it once. And Bahorel twice. And Courfeyrac couldn’t seem to stop talking about it, once Marius realized what he was talking about…

Maybe Marius was a zombie… Or a robot. Being a robot would be cool. Cosette likes robots.

Sometimes Enjolras acted like a robot. Like right now. No, wait, he was doing the robot.

To the country song dance.

While staring at Grantaire.

Marius is pretty sure he’s more subtle than Enjolras at this point, and that’s just kind of sad.

*

Cosette isn’t sure what she wants to do more: bash their stupid heads together, or go masturbate the sexual tension away coming off the two of them.

If Grantaire would just look when Enjolras is looking, this would be so much easier. It’s like a pathetic game of keep away. When Grantaire looks at Enjolras, Enjolras has managed to tear his gaze away, and vice versa.

Though how Enjolras can even manage to stop looking at Grantaire tonight, she’ll never know; she dressed him perfectly for the excuse to have those clothes peeled off of him. Courfeyrac’s already hit on him out of habit six times tonight; Jehan’s written four rather explicit poems about Grantaire’s various assets; Combeferre keeps doing that thing where he repeatedly cleans his glasses to keep from being awkward about his sudden sexual desires. If Enjolras doesn’t make a move, either one of the sets of relationship of Bahorel-Feuilly-Èponine or Joly-Bossuet-Musichetta will. And Musichetta and Bossuet aren’t even here. Joly’s been frantically texting with a throw pillow over his lap all night.

Maybe they won’t miss her for twenty minutes…

Or Marius...

Or Marius’ mouth…

*

Thighs. Grantaire’s thighs specifically. Jehan wants to touch them, lick them, bite them, and bury himself between them all at once.

He’s sure they’d be creamy white, and soft. Shifting muscles beneath deceptive delicacy.

Jehan should write that down…

*

It’s not that Courfeyrac’s interested in Grantaire. R is his friend, his bro, his buddy; they only made out those seven times. That’s perfectly normal with Courfeyrac’s friends.

It’s just… he’s so bendy…

*

Combeferre is not looking.

He is not.

He takes off his glasses to wipe away a smudge.

*

[text] Joly: He did the thing!!!!!  
{text} Chetta: The thing!!  
{text} Lesgles: Oh god, the thing. I love the thing.  
{text} Chetta: I love what the thing does to the both of you.  
[text] Joly: I think I might be the first case of spontaneous combustion via boner.

*

Bahorel turned to Feuilly, who told him, “Not yet.”

Bahorel turned to Èponine, who said, “But soon.”

*  
Grantaire’s finally relaxing the third hour in, after walking in on Cosette and Marius, and nearly laughing himself sick at Courfeyrac practically tripping over his own tongue, so of course that’s when ‘Parnasse starts drunk texting him.

With tension building up his spine, Grantaire finally cracks with he gets an actual phone call.

Ducking into the kitchen, he hisses into the phone, “What do you want, asshole.”

“Somebody bitchy. Need a taking down, huh.”

“Fuck you; I don’t need anything from you.”

“Please. I’m the only one who’ll have you and you know it, cupcake. Nobody wants used goods, R. Nobody picks the sour apple that’s already been bitten into and left to rot, not unless they’re just as desperate.”

“That poetry class is going well for you, huh.”

“Fuck off. You stopping by or what?”

And Grantaire’s resolve cracks a bit. For all the backwards stupid metaphors ‘Parnasse uses to describe them… he’s not wrong. Nobody wants used goods, and Grantaire’s never met anybody as used up as he is.

“I…”

“Grantaire?”

Phone still to his ear, Grantaire turns to see Enjolras backlit in the doorway, like a vengeance. Of all the people to walk in on his moment of doubt, it has to be the one that’s made him doubt the most, by proxy of existing.

“Yo, still there, cupcake?” Montparnasse shouts through the phone and it’s loud and from the face Enjolras makes, he heard it.

“Yeah, I, uh…”

But Enjolras takes the phone out of his hands, stalks to the kitchen window, and tosses it.

“Enjolras.”

“What.”

“That was my phone.”

“Yeah. Oh. Oh, shit.”

*

Enjolras doesn’t find Grantaire’s phone, but he does find a group of flowers he can give Grantaire in apology.

“Enjolras. These are weeds.”

Goddamnit.

“But they’re pretty. Thank you.”

“Sometimes… Sometimes a body has to look harder at something, to see a worth that was missed the first time. Everything deserves a second look, don’t you think?”

“…this isn’t about the weeds is it?”

“I want to take a second look.”

“Look at what?”

“You.”

Grantaire doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he puts the flower-weeds in a glass with water. His hands are shaking.

“Why?”

“Because I want a second chance.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I think I do.”

“No. You don’t. You’re… you. All it ever took was the first time around, Enjolras.”

“Oh.”

Enjolras settles in behind Grantaire, hands lightly on the shorter man’s waist. 

“And if I want a second chance anyway?”

“If I get one, too.”

“Deal,” Enjolras murmurs, wrapping his arms about Grantaire entirely, kissing the corner of his jaw.

“Deal.”

*

They double team the Russian song and kill it.


End file.
